Talk to Me
by smacky30
Summary: Prentiss gives Rossi a challenge. Assumes established relationship.


**Author's Note: Many, many thanks to mingsmommy and losingntrnslatn for their help and encouragement.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Two days ago they were in Seattle chasing yet another killer. The entire team had been working almost around the clock for a week, and exhaustion was the only thing they had left. During one of their marathon days, Emily Prentiss found herself riding along with Rossi to pick up yet another round of take out for the group.

"Are you okay?" he asked, glancing at her before turning his attention back to the road.

With her head tipped back and her eyes closed she said simply, "I'm fine."

"Emily," he chided. "This is me. How are you?"

This time her smile was real, even if exhaustion tugged at the edges of it. "You know, when you say my name like that I want to find the nearest bed and get you in it."

A bark of surprised laughter escaped him. Even with her eyes still closed, she could picture him then, rubbing a hand over his mouth, smoothing the ends of his mustache. His voice deepened but she could still hear the smile in his question. "Really?"

"Really." Turning her head, she let her eyes slide open and looked at him. "I swear you could make me come with nothing more than your voice." She blushed then, embarrassment and arousal warring inside her.

This time his glance lingered just a little longer, his dark eyes full of heat. His mouth tipped up in that crooked smile she had grown to love. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind. "Is that a challenge?"

"If you want it to be." Her words were cool but there was a familiar heat settling low in her belly.

He reached over then, his hand gliding fleetingly along her thigh. "Game on," he said with a grin.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The light filtering in from the bathroom was the only illumination, but he didn't really need it. Over the last few months he had come to know both her bedroom _and_ her body in detail. There were many lonely nights out on the road when he drifted to sleep with images of her naked and sprawled across that bed playing out in his dreams.

Slowly, methodically, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Draping it over the back of a chair, he let his eyes drift over her supine form. Light and shadow painted her body in shades of silver and gold.

For a moment, he stopped and drank her in. She was beautiful, all long legs and slim arms and acres of smooth, pale skin. And she was nervous, he could tell by the tension in her muscles, the self-conscious way she plucked at the sheet.

With a quiet clank, his belt buckle gave way and her head jerked toward him. Her right hand lifted toward the red silk covering her eyes before dropping back to the mattress. Unzipping his jeans, he stepped out of them, folded them and placed them on the chair.

"Dave?" She tried for insouciance but he heard the quiver in her voice.

Padding over to the side of the bed, he looked down at her. Lust roughened the edges of his voice. "Emily?"

She shifted then, her hips twisting against the smooth cotton, and he knew she was just as aroused as she was nervous. White hot want shot through him as the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "I just didn't want you to forget I was here."

He chuckled. "I don't think that's possible."

Licking her lips, Emily let out a shaky breath. "This is just weird. I feel…exposed."

He realized she meant more than just physically. "I've seen _all_ of you before, Em." He sank down on the side of the bed to sit beside her. With a slight gasp, she jumped and clutched at her thigh with one hand while the other flew to the blindfold. Catching her wrist, he eased her arm back to her side.

Bending forward, he let his lips hover just beside her ear. "Shhhhhhhh," he whispered and she shivered. "You're safe." His warm breath gusted over her skin while his voice drifted on the air like smoke.

He watched her for a moment, giving her the time to catch her skittishness was oddly endearing; especially since she had never been nervous in bed before. After all, it was Emily who made the first move. He offered her a ride home one night when her car was in the shop. Before she climbed out of his car, she had brushed her lips over his, offering up a murmured "thanks".

_Thank God her mechanic had to order a part for that tuna can she drives, _he thought with a soft smile.

Taking a deep breath, she let the air out slowly. "Okay. I'm good," she finally said.

"Are you sure, Emily?" He drew her name out, a low rumble from deep inside his chest. His mouth lingered over hers, almost touching her. "Can you handle this?" He offered her an out, even as his body screamed at him to take her.

She licked her lips. He was so close that her tongue ghosted along his mouth for a split second. With a confidence he wasn't sure she really felt, she assured, "I can handle it." Then, with a quick twist of her lips, she whispered, "Game on."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

This torture, this sweet, sweet torment, had been going on forever. He was deliberately trying to drive her crazy. Or at least that's how it seemed to her. Oh, she wasn't complaining; far from it, as a matter of fact. Instead, she was trembling all over, waiting for his next assault, the next word or breath from him against her skin.

She had been a little reluctant agreeing to the blindfold. And he, being Dave, understood that. He never questioned her though; at least not here. He never pushed her further than she was willing to go. And he was man enough to follow wherever she led. So, here she was, naked, with a scarf covering her eyes, hands clenched tightly by her sides so that she didn't ruin the game as Rossi knelt on the bed beside her. She shifted and the sound of her skin sliding over smooth cotton sheets filled her ears.

Rossi had paid homage to her ears and her throat and her collar bones and her shoulders. But not once since he stopped her from removing the blindfold had he actually touched her. Instead, he hovered just above her body, the heat from his hands and mouth warming her; making her want him and the release she knew his touch could bring. Her body was alive, every nerve ending itching to feel him on her, in her. She twisted again, trying to force him to brush a hand over her skin, to touch her with that mouth of his.

Now his lips hovered just over her breast. She could feel her nipple drawing into a tight peak, and a quiet grunt of pleasure escaped him. "So responsive," he murmured.

"God…," she hissed out, "how do you do that?'

She was wet. Just the sound of that slightly hoarse voice with its calm, steady cadence in her ears, and his breath, warm and damp, feathering over her skin, had her ready for him. Fleetingly, she wondered if he was connecting the dots, if he realized just how many times it happened while they were working a case.

If it had been anybody but Dave she might have been embarrassed. But this was her friend, the man who had seen her at her worst, and she had nothing to hide from him, nothing to be ashamed of.

"You smell amazing." He breathed. "I'd know your scent anywhere. Anywhere."

He moved then, his fingertips following the valley between her breasts, not touching, _still not touching damn it_, but so close she could feel his heat. If she were a certain kind of girl, she might have entertained thoughts about electrical sparks and the like. Instead she pushed such silly notions out of her mind, twisting and arching toward his hands, toward his mouth.

Again his hand was moving, his palm hovering just above her stomach. "I love your body, Emily." He blew a steady stream of cool air along the underside of her breast. "You have the sweetest nipples. Such a pale pink, like strawberry ice cream."

She groaned and rubbed her thighs together, desperately seeking just a little pressure against the ache that was driving her slowly and methodically out of her mind. "Dave," his name slipped out on a moan.

Ignoring her, he moved to the other breast. "I don't think I ever told you about the first time I made that connection? Could've been really embarrassing for me and that kid at the Baskin Robbins." She could hear the smile in his voice. Another stream of cool air blew over her. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime."

Moving again. So close the short hairs of his beard tickled along her skin. Just far enough away that she wasn't able to feel his lips against her. With a quiet hum, he stopped at her navel. Slowly, steadily, he blew warm puffs of air there. He was straddling her leg and she could feel his erection through the boxers he wore, warm and heavy against her. Bending her knee, she began to slide her leg along his length.

"Uh-uh," he mumbled. "No touching. Those are the rules."

Letting go of a shaky sigh as he once again dragged his beard over her skin, she grinned. "The rules say _you_ can't touch _me_."

"True," he said, warm breath ghosting over a hip bone. "But I can't be responsible for what happens if you distract me from my mission." Shifting, he moved to kneel between her legs, chuckling when she growled in frustration. "Patience."

"Um, have we met?" She widened her legs, pushing up with her hips.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

His laugh rumbled up through his body and escaped as a warm burst of air against her right thigh. Raising his head, he looked up at her face. "The view from here is magnificent."

The scent of her surrounded him. Tantalizing and uniquely her. Kneeling there between her splayed legs, he could see how aroused she was, and he throbbed with the desire to bury himself inside her.

Leaning forward, his mouth a lingering just over her mound, he blew a hot, steamy breath against her clit. She bucked up, brushing against him, and for a second he could taste the sweet salt of her. Sitting back on his heels, he licked his lips. "Mmmmmmmmm. Tastes as good as it looks."

A blush stained her cheeks and her hands fluttered up, hiding her from his gaze. With infinite patience he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and moved them. She was so tense. "Relax. Just…let go."

Feeling the tension ease, he placed a kiss inside each wrist and released her arms. "Did you ever play pretend when you were a little girl?" She nodded and he leaned over her once again. "Good. Close your eyes."

Her forehead wrinkled, eyebrows shooting up. "How'd you…?"

He shook his head. "I know you. Now, close your eyes." He watched her face for a moment. "It's okay," his voice was low. "Please, let me do this for you."

Her lips parted, and a tiny moan eased out of her.

"It's just us. Just you and me. And I'm going to touch every inch of you." His mouth was once again at her ear. "Relax," the word rumbled through them both. "Let go of everything but the sound of my voice."

He took a moment to smell her hair, the scent of almonds surrounding him. "You smell so good. Have I ever told you that?" He kept the tone light, almost conversational. "I want to bury my face in your hair. Feel it on my skin." Gently, he brushed his cheek over her hair. "I want to feel it wrapped it around my cock."

The moan this time was a little louder and her hands relaxed against the sheet.

"Would you like that, Emily?" His breath washed over her cheek as he whispered a kiss over her parted lips. "Would you wrap your hair around my dick and jack me off?" Her nod was almost imperceptible.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Her body was so heavy, her arms and legs limp and all but useless. Behind her eyelids she could see the two of them just as his words painted them. His body, slim and surprisingly muscular, ranged over the mattress while, in her mind, she slowly worked his cock with her hands.

"That's it, sweetheart," Rossi whispered against the inside of her elbow. "Can you see it?" He shifted again, dragging his cheek over her hand. When she turned it over, he placed a kiss on her palm. "I love your hands on me."

She drifted, not dreaming yet not quite awake, while he drew her into the fantasy. Images of the two of them naked drifted through her mind. Those long muscular legs and slim hips. The smattering of dark hair across his chest. And the thin trail of hair that led from his navel straight down to… _Happy Trail_, the words flickered through her mind and she smiled at the thought.

Moving, constantly moving. The tickling was along her ribs now, finding the curve or her waist. His words were no longer distinguishable. They had faded to the background. It was the low rumble of his voice and the kaleidoscope of images in her head that had her pulse beating faster, the air catching in her lungs. His breath feathered through the curls at the top of her mound and she could feel her body shift and open, waiting for him. She felt swollen, her clit throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart.

She was hot, her skin on fire with the need to feel his weight on her. And still he hovered just out of reach. Vaguely, it registered that she was moving, her hips pumping up and down with a frustrated growl escaping her.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Emily Prentiss never ceased to amaze him. He had been with a lot of women in his life. At one time, he had even considered himself quite the connoisseur. But that was a long time ago. Now, after three ex-wives and numerous affairs, at least one of which contributed to one of those ex-wives, he figured he'd had enough of women to last him a life time. But none of those experiences had prepared him for this woman. So cool and collected at work. So warm and open here with him. He was a lucky man to be allowed to see both sides of her; especially this side. And he was, without a doubt, in way over his head.

"So beautiful." His voice was rough, filled with his own barely restrained need. Her hips were rocking now, up and down, in sweetly erotic testament to just how much she was enjoying their little game. "That's it. Let it happen."

Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, hair spreading across the cream cotton in a wave of silken chocolate. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth. That and the flush spreading across the milky skin of her chest told him she was close.

Slowly, carefully he moved until his face was between her legs. With a purse of his lips, he blew a stream of cool air along her slit and directly on her clit.

She gave a long, low moan and came apart before his eyes. She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. And he finally gave in, breaking every rule he'd ever set for himself. With just a tilt of his head, she was on his tongue, her taste flooding his mouth.

It was a long time later when he lifted his head from where it rested on her stomach and looked at her. The blindfold was pushed up on her forehead, her bangs sticking up above it. But her eyes were still closed and she was…relaxed. Placing a kiss just above the soft curls between her legs, tasting the tang of her sweat, he smiled. "Prentiss, you think up the best games."

Weakly, she laughed and tugged at his shoulders. "God, Dave, if that was fun for you, you should try it from this angle sometime."

Shucking his boxers, he moved until he was stretched out on top of her, his hardness nudging her opening. "Game on," he whispered as he slid into her.


End file.
